


Thrill

by holograms



Series: l'appel du vide [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, F/M, Smut, hooker!Jaime, various other characters are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime introduces himself to her as Leo, and he finds his client Brienne not that extraordinary.  She seems dubious of him, but she should be pleased: her boss hired the best escort for her in the entire city, if Jaime says so himself.</p><p>(modern day/prostitution AU, written for the asoiaf kink meme)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back, but I decided to clean it up some and publish it here. Most things I know about prostitution are from _Secret Diary of a Call Girl_ , no shame.

“Hey, I’m Leo,” Jaime says, putting an arm around the woman’s back and leaning into to place a kiss on her cheek, just so.  When he pulls away, she’s blushing and all he sees is blond hair — not golden like his own, but more of a straw yellow in a bright midday sun — and a face spotted with freckles as she quickly shuts the door behind them and mutters, “My name is Brienne,” in a hurried rush of words.

He knows this already, as he also already knows the extensive background about her like he receives on every client.  There’s nothing extraordinary about this one ( _Brienne Tarth, twenty-five years old, healthy, works for a high class lawyer in the city_ ), and there’s nothing about her looks that are extraordinary either.  Except for her height — she’s tall, and Jaime has to slightly tilt his head up to look at her directly.  _Her eyes are nice, too,_ he notices _._

As soon as he looks at her, she looks away.  Jaime glances down to see that she’s barefoot, and he removes his shoes and socks (“take them off if they do, leave them on if they do — you’re on the same footing,” one of his earliest trainers had said).  Watching Jaime put his shoes neatly next to the door, Brienne sternly asks, “Your name isn’t really Leo, is it?”

Jaime furrows his brows.  “Of course,” he says, leaving off the ending of _it is_ or _it isn’t_ — a trick he learned a while back that answers without really answering.  Most people make what they want to make out of it, and he’s positive that Brienne won’t press any further on the question.  (Because in the business, you protect your name, and keep both of your lives separate.  Work never crosses your personal life.  Never.)

Brienne doesn’t ask anymore about his name, and he follows her into the next room and sits next to her.  He sends a quick text to Baelish to confirm his safety (complete with codeword _mockingbird_ along with the message, _she’s not an axe murderer.  Your favorite rent-boy is fine_ ).  She glances over to him, obviously bothered by the close proximity.  Jaime inwardly smirks at her reaction, but he’s ever nice, because he has to be.

“Mr. Baratheon has this all covered, so no need to worry,” Jaime says, setting his phone on the table and motioning in the air with his hand.  He wonders if this is something that Baratheon can use as a tax write off — _for the well-being of my employees_.  Jaime’s sure it’d be legitimate; the poor girl is sitting tensely with her shoulders hunched up and her hands clasped together in her lap, and it looks like she really does just need a good fuck to get herself unwound.

Jaime leans forward and smiles — time to transition from part one (business) to part two (other business).  “So we have some time just to ourselves.”  He pauses and places his hand on her knee.  “What shall we do?” he asks, with his best _seduction_ face.

“Um.”  Her voice cracks and her face flushes again.  _Oh_ , Jaime thinks.  _Not this again._

“Brienne,” Jaime says.  “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.  Mr. Baratheon won’t know.”  It makes no difference to Jaime, he’ll get paid regardless, whether he fucks her or not.

“No!” she says quickly, and Jaime finds it amusing at how eager she seems.  “I do.  I just...this…”

“Is awkward?” Jaime finishes.

Brienne nods.  “It’s been really rough on all of us, with the eldest Baratheon brother’s death, and now Renly and his other brother are splitting the firm and Renly wanted to _thank me_ for everything that I do for him.”  She looks down at her hands. 

“He’s a good boss.  I mean, he’s paying for you to have some fantastic sex,” Jaime says, and he moves his hand to her inner thigh.  “I’m _extremely_ expensive.”

“Renly is very kind to me.”

Jaime hears the way she says _Renly_ and the affection that surrounds it.  He reaches forward and brushes her bangs out of her face — she flinches, but lets him touch her ( _she’s a challenge, he likes challenges, he can’t wait until she’s melting at his touch_ ).  “I can tell that you care a lot for Renly,” he says.

“Yes, but I’m not exactly what he’s looking for.”

“Yeah, he’s so flaming he could set water on fire.”  This earns a small chuckle from Brienne, and she turns to look at him and Jaime gets a better look at her eyes, and they’re big and the brightest blue he’s ever seen and they’re oh so sad.

He leans into her, so close that he can feel her breath on his face, and he whispers, “You can call me Renly, if you want to.”

She takes in a small gasp of air — she wasn’t expecting that, Jaime always loves it when he surprises them — but then she shakes her head and says, “That’s not your name, either.” He sighs, because _of course_ she wants Jaime and not Leo.  Jaime calls her stubborn, and that’s when she kisses him.  She kisses sloppily, with too much teeth and their noses bump more than they should, but she quickly adjusts and soon her hands are going through his hair and resting at the nape of his neck.  She whines when Jaime pulls away.

“Where?” is all he asks, and she tugs at his hands and he stands up and follows her through her apartment — he sees bits of her living space: her office that’s cluttered with papers and books around a Mac, another room with some athletic equipment where he catches a glimpse of a fencing sabre, and finally they’re at her bedroom.

Jaime strips off his shirt and jeans before lying down next to her, and she trails her hand down his side stopping at the waistband of his boxers, looking plaintively at his erection straining against the fabric.  He had been hard minutes ago, because of the standard Viagra that he takes before meeting with every client (because nothing would be worse than being with a client and not being able to get it up), and the closeclose contact with her.

“I’ve never done this before,” Brienne says quietly, almost too quiet for him to hear.

Jaime shifts.  “What, with a prostitute?”

Brienne shakes her head.

 _Ah._   She wouldn’t be the first virgin that he’s been with on-the-job.  “Well, then let us not delay it any longer,” he says.

He reaches forward and pulls at her pants, and pulls them and her underwear down her long legs and throws them on the floor next to his clothes.  He doesn’t touch her yet, but kisses her and slides a hand under her shirt and cups one of her breasts — she isn’t wearing a bra, and as Jaime lightly rubs his thumb over her nipple, he wonders if she hadn’t worn one for the occasion or if she often went without one.

Brienne breaks away from Jaime to pull her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor.  He glances down at her nude form and he says, “Look at you,” and for a moment Brienne looks questioningly at him until he nips at her neck.  Make them feel beautiful, make them feel special, it’s the same with them all, and that’s what he’s paid to do.

Jaime’s hand wanders down and teases her opening to find her already wet — and when he circles his thumb around her clit she sharply inhales, to which he answers with an _hmm_ ing noise and after a few moments he inserts a finger, and she presses into his hand.

“I don’t know what to do,” Brienne says, panting.

“Stop thinking so much about it,” Jaime answers, slipping in another finger and thinks, _it’s not that difficult to understand_.  This continues for a few minutes, with her moaning beneath him, and Jaime forcing himself to not buck his hips at the noises she’s making, the mumbling of incoherent things that he doesn’t understand until he picks out words that he recognizes — _I want._

He takes his boxers off in a swift motion, and reaches over the side of the bed to grab the square foil package that the keeps in the right back pocket of his jeans, tears it open and Brienne watches while he puts the condom on his cock with expertise.  She leans back as Jaime climbs on top her, sucking at where her neck meets her shoulders, an area that he had earlier discovered where she likes to have attention. 

“Please,” she asks, and Jaime like the way that she _pleads_ it, and he slowly pushes himself into her.  Brienne makes a noise that’s between a sigh and a strangled whimper, and Jaime brushes back hair that has fallen onto her face and mumbles words of encouragement.

It’s not long before she begins to relax and respond back to him, bending her strong legs behind his back and thrusting in time to his rhythm.  Jaime doesn’t give the fakes sounds of pleasure that he does with the majority of clients — no porn star moans from him, just light grunts, because he’s sure that Brienne would know and wouldn’t like the fake stuff.  She’s real, and he realized within the first few minutes of meeting her that she doesn’t appreciate artificiality, which he finds amusing because she works for a lawyer and they’re faker than what he does for a living.  He assess what somebody wants and he gives it to them, there’s nothing dishonest about that, and Jaime gets a thrill from it — that he shares this moment with a person, because moments like these when Brienne’s face is the most flushed that he’s seen it, so much that it makes her freckles stand out even more, and her eyes are so incredibly blue around her dilated pupils, it’s the moments when a person is most vulnerable and right then, everyone is beautiful.

Jaime bends his head down and licks at her nipple and leaves a trail of kisses up her neck until he meets her mouth, and takes her bottom lip between his teeth before kissing her fully.  Her hands fall to his waist and she grips hard, and her breathing speeds up and she’s squirming underneath him and arching her back and he’s sure that it’ll be any moment now for her.  He presses his head against her shoulder, and a couple of beats later Brienne comes, her moan booms against his ear, and his orgasm follows right after hers.

He rolls off of her and disposes the condom into the trash bin next to Brienne’s bed, and lies next to her.  He recognizes the growing look of panic forming on Brienne’s face —  _oh my god,_ _I just fucked a prostitute I just lost my virginity fucking fuck_.  Jaime always finds it charming.

Brienne seems like the type to like a post-fuck cuddle, so he scoots close to her.  With her legs fully stretched out, her legs are longer than his.  She doesn’t say anything, and the peace and quiet reminds Jaime of the times when he and his brother and sister would lay on their backs in the summer sun and watch clouds together, but that was before they all somewhat hated each other.

When he looks over to Brienne, she’s no longer panicked and seems in a similar content state.  He wonders what she’s thinking of.  He thinks of asking her, because he’s sure it’d be intriguing ( _like her,_ is a passing thought in his mind), but he doesn’t.  Instead, he slips an arm behind her and brings her closer to him.  “You okay?” he asks, and she nods with her eyes closed.

 

[For some reason, he’s in the forest in the dead of night and he’s so alone, like he’s been since his family abandoned him for his choices, but Brienne ends up finding him and they walk through a forest in the dark of the night with only the flashlight that Brienne is holding to guide them, and he grabs a hold of her arm, and tells her to not go on, but she shrugs him away and forces him to continue on.  _Odd_ , Jaime thinks, before it dissipates.]

 

Sometime later, Jaime finds himself with a head of blond hair resting on his chest and an arm draped over his stomach — and then he jolts awake to realize that he had fallen asleep.

_No no, never supposed to—_

He shoves Brienne away and she sleepily asks, “What?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t supposed to sleep,” Jaime hurriedly says as he pulls on his jeans.  “It’s really unprofessional.”  Jaime hopes that Baelish wouldn’t somehow find out; he won’t get good clients for _weeks_ if he does.

Brienne glances to the clock on the nightstand table.  “It was only for forty minutes or so.”  She pauses, and then adds, “I’ll pay you more if that’s the issue.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Jaime says as he tugs his shirt over his head and runs his hands through his hair.  “Anyway.”

Brienne pulls the duvet up to cover herself, and her grim expression is indicator enough for Jaime to know that the situation is a bit awkward for her.  “Anyway,” she says.  “Thanks, Not-Leo.”

He leaves with a nod of his head, and then ducks out of the room, and he entertains the thought that maybe she could become a repeat client.  However, it’s not until he gets into her living room that he remembers the dream of walking through the forest at night, and _damn the rules,_ his rash decisions usually work out for him, and he runs back into the bedroom.  She had been lying down, but she sits back up when he rushes into the room.

“My name is Jaime,” he says.  Brienne smiles, and is about to speak when Jaime cuts her off, “Would you like to see me again another time?  Not in this way though?”

This stops her short, and it’s a moment before she answers with, “Yes,” and then quickly, “Why did you come back and ask me this?”

Jaime isn’t really sure what to say ( _the way she blushes about everything, her loyalty to a boss that sends her off with a male escort to make her hopefully forget about him, how she sighs when he kisses at her neck in the same places that he likes, how she knows what’s what, her striking blue_ eyes _, how she seems to understand him_ ), so he tilts his head and says, “I dreamed of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome! :)


End file.
